A Mystery Most Mysterious
by TunaSandw1ch
Summary: Betty discovers that someone has been living in the supply closet at Riverdale High.


Someone was living at Riverdale High. Not like Betty did, living in the sense that she did so much she never seemed to leave. Actually _living_ in one of the supply closets in the school.

She'd stumbled across it after a spill in chem lab. She'd volunteered to get a mop because Cheryl, her lab partner and perpetrator of the mess, was preoccupied… something about louboutins.

Flutesnoot had told her to go to the closet across the hall, but she knew that one had been without a mop since that time Moose and Reggie played 'floor hockey' with the mop, the broom and a rubber-band ball. Moose had crashed into the water fountain and the mop's handle had split in two.

Instead, Betty took a left turn down the hall, then a right by the music rooms, then another right, landing herself right outside the best-kept secret of Riverdale High. Okay. Maybe that was an exaggeration. But being next to the English classrooms and the school's radio station (which had stopped being funded in 1989 and had fallen into disrepair, becoming a storage room for chairs and tables and the like), there was never much need for cleaning equipment. Hence, the supply closet fell off of Riverdale's radar. In the few times things from the closet were required, students tended to make the longer walk to the science department, not realising the use of the room just down the hall.

Jughead had shown the place to Betty a few weeks ago. They'd been working at the blue and gold until late, and she'd tripped and her coffee had gone flying, soaking pages of Jughead's article along with most of the floor. She'd apologised profusely, but Jughead had just laughed, assuring her that he had a digital copy before leaving to grab the mop and some paper towels. He was back in seconds.

"How were you so quick?" Betty had asked, astonished. "You got all the way to Flutesnoot's and back in less than a minute!"

Jughead looked at her with a small grin, tilting his head to the side in confusion.

"No…" He explained with a perplexed smirk that made Betty feel as though she was missing something obvious. "I just went to the closet down the hall."

Betty narrowed her eyes.

"I'm no fool, Jughead Jones,"

"I don't take you for one, Elizabeth Cooper,"

She fixed him with a hard stare and he had to fight a smile. She looked so… adorable with her face slightly tilted trying to look intimidating in that soft pink cardigan.

At least, he assumed it was soft…

To stop himself from reaching out and touching it, Jughead had offered to show her.

So there she stood, mouth open as wide as the door. There was a makeshift bed in the centre, unmade, like someone had rolled out of it this morning in a hurry. There were books, a Mark Twain and a Kafka. Betty wrinkled her nose. She'd hated _Metamorphosis_ when she'd read it. The whole beetle, cockroach, or whatever thing freaked her out. She'd recommended it to Jughead, though. She'd thought it might interest him.

She wondered if he'd started reading it, yet.

There was a half-eaten strawberry pop-tart on the bench, too. And a toothbrush.

Someone was _living_ here. And she was going to find out who.

Tightening her ponytail and grabbing the mop she'd come in for, Betty headed resolutely back to class, thanking all the powers that may be that it was the last period of the day. She and Jug had a meeting for the blue and gold, and she just had to tell him. She was nothing but a nosy blonde without her Watson.

When the bell rang, Betty bolted, heading straight for their little office by the english classrooms. She wanted to get there as soon as possible, not wasting time that could be spent sleuthing. She had to admit, this was a nice distraction from the heavy, twisted investigation into Jason's murder. She could look forward to snooping without the familiar dread swooping in her stomach that the next clue she may uncover could be a jail sentence for one of her parents.

She sat and waited for what seemed like a year.

Five minutes and forty-seven seconds, actually. She counted.

Then, the all-familiar silhouette of her partner-in-crime filled the doorway and she exploded. Not literally, of course. Before he was full way into the room she relayed her discovery.

"Jughead! Someone's living in the closet down the hall!"

Jughead froze in the doorway. His eyes searched hers, which were searching him for a reaction.

"L-living?" he asked. "Are you sure?"

Betty rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"Of course I'm sure! There's a bed set up and every-"

She stopped mid sentence as Jughead took a bite out of something in his hand.

A pop tart.

A half-eaten, strawberry pop-tart.

She jumped up before he knew what was happening.

"Forsythe Pendleton Jones the Third!" She exclaimed, grabbing him by the wrist and dragging him down the hall.

She threw open the door and looked up accusingly at him.

"What do you call this?"

Jughead gulped.

He tried to lie, he really did, but nothing came. Looking into those eyes he couldn't say anything but the truth.

"Home?"

It came out as a question, but it was the truth. This dingy little cupboard was Jughead's only refuge. That, and wherever Betty was. But he wouldn't tell her that. Yet.

The anger fled from Betty's face, her eyes losing their edge and looking at him, seeing him. He felt vulnerable, but he let her look. There could be no secrets with Betty Cooper.

She sighed and threw her arms around him, squeezing tightly. Jughead teetered backwards, not expecting the body that had so suddenly been flung upon him. He felt safe in her arms.

"Juggie," Betty looked up from his chest, her eyes imploring. "You can't live like this…"

"I know, Bets," He replied, looking down and holding onto her as tight as she was to him. "I'm moving in with Archie this afternoon. I was going to pack up after our meeting at the blue and gold."

Betty smiled up at him softly, still not releasing him.

"I'll help." She decided, lingering with him for another second before turning to survey the room. She got to work at once, gathering up all of Jughead's clothes and books, folding them and placing them into neat piles.

He watched her for a second before following her lead.

They worked in silence, content.

"Hey, Juggie," Betty said suddenly, holding a bunch of film rolls Jughead had salvaged from the old drive-in.

"Yeah?"

"You know what this means, you moving in with Archie?"

"What?"

"We're gonna be neighbours," she winked and he laughed and for a moment, a small, uninterrupted moment, Jughead knew everything would be alright.


End file.
